that compulsory last hurrah
There are some things with which my comfort level is just really, really low, no matter how the logic works, and I hate the act of tamping out thought after thought like acrid cigarette nubs. Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit.
And y'know what? I wouldn't mind a crowded bar and frenzied socializing, myself.
Or maybe I'm just...meh.